Sunday is (at least in Feliciano's opinion) the best day of the week.
They don't have to open the shop on a Sunday, so Ludwig can (usually) be persuaded to just stay in bed with him, at least for a while. Some weeks Feliciano can keep him there till nearly nine o' clock (which always feels like a great achievement)-cosy and warm under the covers, nestled around each other and quiet sunlight making the curtains glow and hesitant fingers smoothing his hair and a still silence all around except for the breath of the wind outside and the breath of his partner beside him.
For breakfast, they have porridge with apple jam, or drizzled with honey, and they'll eat sat close on the sofa in front of the gas fire because the nights are getting colder and the flat is still chilly in the mornings. Feliciano sticks his legs forwards and wriggles his toes in the heat, and Ludwig laughs at him and pokes his cheek with the handle of his spoon and tells him he should get dressed before breakfast if he's cold. Feliciano just harrumphs and steals some of his porridge.
Sunday is a day for walking. They'll trek the whole length of the island-down to the south bay (which always stinks of rotting seaweed), then turn around and pass their shop again, and Mrs Docherty's cottage with all her beehives, and on up the street that is the rest of the village, smiling at people they pass and maybe a 'good morning' or a 'oh, hey, Paul, do you know when you'll be done with our stepladder?'
After that it's up the narrow road that passes the ferry slipway and further on past the turn-offs for the chapel and Caorach Farm, and there's a muddy path through the bracken and the sheep fields and they'll come to the breezy north end. It's always chilly here, so they never stay for too long, but will always take time to stand and look out over the sea together. If the weather is good enough, they can squint and just see Skye on the horizon, and sometimes (if there's nobody around) Ludwig will kiss him there, on the cliffs, above the ocean, or they talk about small things-about deliveries or music or the dogs they plan to get soon-until they get cold and head home.
Sunday afternoon is enjoyable too, as although it is primarily a time for housework and cleaning, it is also a time for board games, for baking, for ballroom dancing and blanket forts and balloon tennis over the back of the sofa. It's a time for laughter, for flicking each other with dusters, for getting much too competitive about Formula Dé ("But we're using the redlining rule! I'm certain we de-hey! Give that back!"), and for reading and drawing and turning the radio up over the noise of the vacuum cleaner.
When you add to this that Ludwig relaxes quite easily on Sundays spent with Feliciano - and that he gets remarkably cuddly when he isn't so tense and worried about everything - then all in all, Sunday really is (at least in Feliciano's opinion) the best day of the week.